Gravel on the Ground: From the Ashes
by 1917farmgirl
Summary: Some people, they're important. They're born with destinies, courage, bravery. They have tasks to accomplish. Vital things like saving the world. But some people... Some people slip through the cracks. For them, it takes everything they have just to save themselves.
1. Prologue

**Author's Note:** As a general rule, I try to keep notes short and unobtrusive, but this story is such a beast I simply cannot send it out into the world without a bit of explanation. This story is huge so it will be divided into several different novels. The name of the whole series is "Gravel on the Ground," but each short story or novel will have its own title within the series. No, it isn't completely written yet. Yes, I know how many other stories I have going. But I've been writing constantly on this story since March, and I finally decided to stop fighting it.

I've borrowed a concept for this story from another fandom. In the TV series Charmed (created by Constance M. Burge and Aaron Spelling) strong magic is passed down through the women in a family, and each witch usually inherits skills that focus on one of three abilities: moving objects, manipulating time, or mental abilities like seeing the past or future. I've made my characters descended from the same magical line – the Warren family – which means that they have these magical traits, but because they are combined with the form of magic used in Harry Potter, they have been altered slightly. It explains the ability to do wandless magic easier than usual and a few unique characteristics, but that's the only connection to Charmed. This isn't meant to be a crossover between the show and the Harry Potter books.

I intend to remain as faithful as possible to the plots and events of all the books, with a few exceptions:  
- The inclusion of original characters in events they obviously weren't present for.  
- The appearance of characters may reflect the movie characters more than the book versions.  
- When I read the books, they seemed to be sort of timeless. I had no idea they were set in a specific year until I read DH and saw the dates on Lily and James' tombstone. I was a little peeved, as it messed with my mental image of things, but I digress. Anyway, to make this story work with things I have planned farther down the line, I needed to adjust the HP dates. I have added five years to the HP timeline, pushing it forward slightly, but it really shouldn't change anything for readers.

Also I consider all the "extra" information JKR has given us about characters that wasn't included in the actual books to be "suggestions" rather than canon. I don't want to know everything! It doesn't leave my imagination any room to play!

**Special thanks to **Smuffly for being the heart behind this story and loving it as much as I do. For hours of endless plot help, encouragement, reading and re-reading, and editing. For making me keep writing it, and convincing me to post it. Without her, this story wouldn't exist, so, Smuffly, this story is for you.

**Disclaimer: ** The characters, settings, and world of the Harry Potter books are created by J.K. Rowling and belong to her. Only the original characters and the story idea belong to me. I make no profit from this.

**Gravel on the Ground: "From the Ashes"**

…_.watch me rise like smoke from fire._

_watch me fly above your hate._

_watch me dance upon your meanness  
__like a ballerina with posture; grace._

_watch me laugh over your hatred;  
__watch me soar above your sea of grief._

_And know that i am out there_

_somewhere…_

- Coco J. Ginger

00000

**Prologue**

The rain was pouring down in sheets, turning the streets to dirty rivers full of garbage and covered with the slick sheen of oil from the millions of automobiles that drove the city day and night. It was only early evening but the storm had made it prematurely dark.

In the shadows outside of a deli a young girl crouched, huddled inside a ragged sweatshirt that did nothing to keep out the rain. She sat unmoving in the downpour, despite being soaked completely through, her dark, haunted eyes gazing longingly at the warm light spilling from inside the little shop. Occasionally, a small, pale hand darted out and wiped the drops of water from the glasses on her face before disappearing again.

Night came and the shadows turned to true darkness, yet still the girl sat there shivering, her bare feet pulled up into her dirty skirt in a desperate bid for a little warmth. Finally, the back door of the deli opened and a figure emerged, lugging a bag to a waiting dumpster. The girl sat up hopefully, but her face quickly fell as the light revealed the person in full.

It wasn't the one she'd been hoping for.

"You, girl!" a harsh voice suddenly cut through the night, muted slightly by the pounding rain but fierce just the same. The girl shrank back against the wall. "Get out of here!"

She didn't move.

"I said git!" the woman shrieked, grabbing a nearby broom and advancing slightly. "Or I'll call the police this time for real!"

Fear shot through the girl at those words. She scrambled up and dashed off, her bare feet splashing through the filthy water.

There would be no food again tonight.

Trying to ignore the hunger gnawing at her stomach, she weaved and dodged between the crowds of umbrella-bearing people who were hurrying to their destinations with heads down, anxious to be warm and dry. Even in the rain, New York City never slept.

Eventually, she slipped into a narrow alley. It didn't block the rain entirely, but it was lessened in its force. She made her way to the back where an ancient awning clung to the side of the building, sheltering a long ago boarded up window and ducked underneath.

From behind her glasses, her brown eyes scanned the darkness as she pulled a threadbare blanket from the corner and wrapped it around herself. She was looking for the flash of smoky, gray fur. For the last four nights that she'd slept in this spot, the gray cat had showed up each evening and stayed for an hour or so before disappearing. But tonight, there was no sign of the friendly animal.

A deep feeling of loneliness overwhelmed her and she hung her head. She hadn't realized how much that hour of companionship each night had meant until it was gone. Worried, she hoped the cat was okay and had simply moved on.

Wet, hungry, and miserable, she huddled back into the corner and closed her eyes, preparing to endure the night.

Sleep claimed her and for once the nightmares stayed at bay, until her heart stopped in terror when a voice invaded her dreams.

"Hey, girl, wake up!"

Her eyes snapped open and she cowered back instinctively in fear, looking for a way out before she actually took in the sight before her.

A strange, old woman crouched before her, blocking the entrance to her awning and her escape route. She was dressed in a baggy pair of overalls, a bright green bathrobe, pink galoshes, and a black hat adorned by flamingos. To top it all off, she carried a tiger-striped umbrella.

"Come on, girl; it's cold and wet. We don't have all night!"

Adamantly, she shook her head no, stuffing herself farther back against the wall. _Who was this mad woman and why was she invading her corner of the world?_

"Look, don't you want to get out of this rain? Dry off? Have a proper supper?"

Now all the internal warning bells the girl had went off. People who offered to take you in and feed, help you out, always wanted something in return and it was never something good. She'd never knocked an old woman down before, but she needed to escape and that was the only way out…

Shifting slightly, she got into position. The moment the woman was even slightly distracted she would go, bursting out and running off before the old lady could gather her wits. But before she could set her plan in motion, the crazy lady shook her head in frustration.

"Oh, for the love of Merlin," she muttered, reaching into the pocket of her bathrobe. She pulled out a long, thin stick and suddenly, the girl's heart froze.

_A wand! The woman had a wand!_ The shock made her hesitate and that was all it took. Suddenly, the wand was pointed at her, a few words uttered, and then she was changing, shrinking as the world grew huge around her and the sound of the rain faded away.

The last thing the girl noticed before it all went dark was that the old woman's hair was strangely the exact same color as the cat's fur had been.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

Minerva was completely lost in the gripping pages of her novel.

It was a perfect day for reading. Not too hot, not too cold. She was curled up in her favorite, most comfortable chair, tea and biscuits within easy reach on the side table. Outside the August heat stifled the air, but the stone walls of Hogwarts kept it at bay and made the fire that burned cheerfully in her grate not unwelcome.

Many of the other professors chose to leave the school and travel to other homes during the summer holidays, but Minerva had decided long ago that Hogwarts _was_ her home; it was where she felt most welcome and at ease. She and the castle had an odd sort of understanding, as if they both needed each other. It was nice.

Absorbed in the story, she turned another page. It was only during the holiday months that she let herself indulge in fiction, and she relished every minute of it.

She was just reaching the climax of the plot when her fire suddenly sputtered and spat, ruining her concentration. She snapped the book shut and glared at the offending flames.

A woman's head wearing the official emerald green hat of the Floo Office popped into her hearth.

"Will you accept the charges for an International Fireplace Connection?" she asked without preamble.

Minerva's glare changed to a look of mild puzzlement. _International Floo_? Who on earth would be Flooing her from out of the country?

"Of course," she answered politely, setting her book aside and rising from her chair to approach the fire. Her curiosity was piqued.

"Then please apply an extra handful of Floo powder to boost your fire's strength in exactly two and five-eighths minutes."

The woman's head disappeared without a goodbye and Minerva scrambled for her Floo powder; she didn't communicate this way very often. She preferred the elegance and dignity of the written word over conversations spent crouching in the soot and ashes. Still, it wasn't every day that someone contacted her long-distance! As she waited the requested time she couldn't help wondering what this was about.

Exactly two and five-eighths minutes after the Floo Official's head had disappeared, Minerva threw in the handful of powder. Five foot green flames leapt out of her fireplace, forcing her to step backwards slightly and shield her face from the glow.

"Minerva! It's the height of summer! Will you never learn to leave the stodgy, heavy robes behind during the holidays and loosen up? Let your knees breathe once in a while?"

Minerva pulled her arm away from her eyes and back to the fireplace. A woman's head sat in the middle of the flames, her smoky gray hair covered in a shockingly blue turban.

"Ophelia," she said, shaking her head with a smile. "Never once in my life have my knees needed to breathe."

"And that is entirely your problem, my old friend. You need to live a little! You should see the summer robes they're putting out over here! They're marvelous! I'm sure we could find you one in a nice tartan. Of course, with the insane weather we've been having lately, it has been a bit chilly but –"

"Ophelia," Minerva broke in with a laugh before her friend could really get going. "To what do I owe the honor?"

"Oh, yes, right," Ophelia said, and suddenly her teasing expression of before had become serious. "I wasn't sure at first. Had to investigate for a few days, double check."

"Check what?" Minerva prodded a little impatiently, settling onto a footstool where she had a better view of her friend's head. Even when they were in school, Ophelia had always had a bad habit of talking around and around a subject but forgetting to get to the actual point of it.

"Well, the girl of course. But after four days I was positive, so I went to fetch her. Stubborn little thing didn't want to come with me, though. Had to use my rubber chicken spell but it worked a treat."

"Wait, wait," Minerva said, frowning. "Are you telling me you found a girl, and turned her into a rubber chicken?" she asked aghast.

"Minerva, don't look at me like that. I couldn't very well carry a teenage girl home, could I?"

"So, you found a girl, turned her into a rubber chicken, and then carted her off to your home? Ophelia, what were you thinking! We don't turn people into objects against their will and you know it!" Minerva was shocked and horrified by what her friend was telling her.

"I had no choice!" Ophelia snapped back, giving her a nasty glare. "I needed to get her home!"

"Why?" she asked with a heavy sigh. "Why on earth would you need to take a girl home with you in the first place, especially one who didn't want to go with you?" Her thoughts were muddled, confused, and worried. Ophelia had always been a bit of an odd duck, but she was starting to think her friend had finally gone completely round the twist! Living among the Yanks for all those years must have done something to her!

"Because I found her, Minerva!" the head in the fireplace said with a big grin, argument forgotten. "I didn't mean to, just ran into her on accident, but I'm sure it's her."

"Found who? Ophelia Oddsocks, please stop flying around the houses and tell me what you're talking about!"

"That's what I've been trying to do for the last five minutes but you keep interrupting."

Minerva fought the urge to roll her eyes; something which she felt was very noble of her.

"Charlie and Jenny's daughter," her friend continued softly. "The McLauchlin girl."

Minerva's head snapped up at those unexpected words and she clutched at her heart, suddenly shaking. For several moments she couldn't speak. "You found Sadie McLauchlin?" she finally whispered, overwhelming emotions coursing through her. "She really is still alive?"

"She's alive."

"Are you _sure_ it's her?" After all these years and completely out of the blue… Minerva was finding it hard to think straight.

"As sure as I can be. After all, I've never met or seen the girl before, but she bears a striking resemblance to Charlie in the photo you left me."

Minerva sat silent and frozen on her footstool.

Seven years. It had been _seven years_ since the events of that horrific day, the loss of so many innocent lives. Seven years since one little girl had vanished like smoke, never to be seen again. At first she'd held out hope, but as time passed it was dimmed by the harsh voices of reason and reality. It had been many years since she thought of little Sadie with anything other than sorrow for her probable death.

"Well," Ophelia interrupted her wandering thoughts. "Are you coming or not? I can't wait all day – this long-distance Floo is putting a terrible strain on my little fireplace!"

Minerva straightened. What was she doing just sitting there, letting her emotions run rampant? This was not a time for sentimentality!

"Of course I'm coming. I'll go to London and arrange an International Portkey immediately," she said, standing quickly.

"Wonderful!" Ophelia beamed. "We can owl out for Chinese when you get here. Oh, and I'll need to wash the spare sheets…and restock the ice chest…"

Her friend's head suddenly disappeared without even a goodbye, Ophelia already lost in the list of tasks she was giving herself.

Quickly, Minerva pulled an ancient carpetbag from beneath her bed and set it to packing itself. Then she left her chambers heading for the Headmaster's office, heart full with the news she had to share.

00000

"Minerva!"

Minerva tried not to cringe at the enthusiastic greeting as the door she'd just knocked smartly on swung open.

"Come in, come in!"

She stepped into the small flat and set her bag down, looking around.

"This isn't the same place you had before," she said with interest.

"Oh, no. That place was much too big for me alone, and filled with too many memories of Ralph. I'm much happier here. Now, let me get your cloak; you're soaked. How do you like all this rain?"

Minerva handed off the garment while Ophelia continued to talk on as she blasted the sodden wool with a drying spell.

"Usually, New York is hot and beautifully sunny this time of year. Shame you can't see it!"

"I'm certain I can picture it just fine," said Minerva, giving her friend a warm smile. Ophelia had her faults, but there was nothing false or pretentious about her, which was one of the reasons they had remained good friends despite time and distance. "Ophelia, where's the girl?" The tiny living area of the flat was empty of anyone other than the two witches.

Her friend sobered slightly and gestured with her head to one of the few doors placed at intervals around the room. This one was shut tight.

"Poor thing just doesn't trust me. She tried to go out the window when I was making tea."

Sorrow filled Minerva and she stepped up to the door. "May I?" she asked.

"Of course. Hopefully, you'll have better luck than me. I'll owl out for food while you two talk."

Full of a mix of emotions, Minerva turned the knob on the door and pushed it open.

The room was dim, but a lamp burned in one corner, throwing off a warm glow. A cozy bed commanded the center of the space, a tray of tea and toast sitting at the foot of it, but both bed and food were untouched. A strange rope of what looked like knitted yarn stretched from one of the bedposts to where it disappeared in the space between the bureau and the wall. At the window, a pair of rather determined looking knitting needles stood guard.

She entered the room completely and closed the door behind her. Then she stepped around the end of the bed so she had a clear view of where the yarn rope led. A teenage girl sat on the floor, wedged into the small space with her knees drawn up and her head on her arms, sleeping lightly. Around one small wrist the yarn rope attached to a knitted cuff, enchanted to keep her from escaping the room.

Minerva shook her head. Leave it to Ophelia to set her knitting on the girl so she wouldn't run off. She pulled her wand from her robes and flicked it, breaking the strengthening spell and letting the cuff and rope unravel. The yarn retreated obediently, rolling up into a ball.

Feeling the motion at her wrist, the girl woke with a start, her head jerking up, and suddenly the two of them were staring at each other.

Minerva's voice caught on a lump in her throat. The child was older – sixteen now, although she didn't look it with her small stature – and the pair of glasses clinging to her face were new, but she still had no doubt that she was gazing at a young girl she hadn't seen for seven years but used to know quite well. The bright red hair and expressive brown eyes were unmistakable even when filthy, and in her features she was an equal and undeniable mix of Jenny and Charlie.

"Sadie McLauchlin," she finally breathed in joyous awe. The girl blinked at her name but didn't speak. "She really found you."

The child looked at her fearfully, her brown eyes dark and weary, but she didn't say a word. Gazing into those eyes, Minerva knew this was a girl with horrors that haunted her past. It broke her heart because the last time she'd stared into those eyes they'd been full of happiness and life.

With a sigh, she drew up a chair and sat beside the bed in front of Sadie, who other than raising her head hadn't moved.

"I'm sorry if Mrs. Oddsocks frightened you. I know she can be a little…I believe intense would be a good word, but she means well."

Sadie still said nothing.

Minerva frowned.

"Sadie," she said gently. "Do you remember me?"

Silence stretched after her question, long and heavy, but she let it, simply watching the girl as she was in turn studied with the most intense of gazes. Finally, barely noticeable, Sadie nodded.

"Then you should know I'm not here to harm you. I don't know where you've been or what has happened to you over the years, and I know your strong wariness of strangers has probably kept you safe during that time, but you must decide if you want to continue to live that way, or if you can try trusting again. I'm here to take you to England with me. There's a place for you at Hogwarts, always has been, if you'd like it, and people who care deeply for you."

For the first time some of the fear and distrust slipped off Sadie's face, replaced by a flicker of curiosity, but before Minerva could tell her more, a loud rumbling sound split the silence.

"Are you hungry?" she asked at once. The child was scared and traumatized, but there would be time to address that later. Now she would get farther by providing for her practical needs first.

Sadie nodded slowly.

"Then come. Mrs. Oddsocks promised a fine spread of New York City cuisine. I'm sure we don't want to miss it."

She stood up, returning the chair to its original place, and then turned to Sadie and waited. After a long moment, the girl haltingly moved out of her hiding spot. Minerva took in the bare feet and ragged, dirty, ill-fitting clothing with a great sadness, but forced herself not to react openly.

"Shall we?" she asked, gesturing to the doorway, but the girl paused, drawing back nervously from the window with its knitting needle sentries they would have to pass.

"Oh, Merlin's fallen arches," Minerva muttered whisking out her wand again. "I've told Ophelia time and time again to just get a nice pet cat! Those blasted needles are entirely too full of themselves anyway," she said as she fired off a tiny stunning spell and the silver needles fell to the floor. For the first time, the faint glimmer of a smile pulled at the corners of Sadie's eyes and mouth.

"Come, child. Let's get some food in you before you faint. Just make sure to ask the cutlery politely before you use it; Mrs. Oddsocks possessions can be so persnickety."

Together – Minerva pretending not to notice the girl's trembling, hesitant steps – they left the spare bedroom.

00000

She stood on the roof and watched as the rising sun inched above the horizon, waking the city with rays of amber and gold that bounced off the millions of windows and shimmering puddles still left in the streets.

The rain had finally stopped and the sun emerged, the world washed clean and born again to a new day.

The symbolism of it all wasn't lost on her.

Silently, Sadie scanned the metropolis, pausing now and then to commit a roof to memory, dwell on the deep green of a park, remember the maddening smell of roasting peanuts…

This city held dark and dangerous corners, where nightmares stalked and hunger and cold tormented. Hidden, evil secrets and terrors. For those reasons, she hated it.

But it also held great beauty. A memory of a friendly smile, a kind word… Cool wood and the smell of old books… A mind finally unlocked… And for those reasons she loved it as well.

The city was an enigma – the canyons of steel and stone could swallow you whole and steal your soul, and yet it had been her home, kept her safe, sheltered her. It called to her, in a way she would never understand, but knew she couldn't ignore.

"Sadie?"

She turned at the voice and stepped guiltily away from the ledge. She hadn't been given permission to come up here and she was still unsure of these people.

"There you are, child," the older woman – Professor McGonagall, Sadie corrected herself – said. "It's almost time for us to go. Our Portkey departs in an hour…" The professor's voice trailed off as she came to a stop beside her and gazed out at the sparkling city. "Oh," she said after a moment. "I must admit that is quite the sight. Beautiful, in its own way." She looked at Sadie. "You will miss it, won't you?"

Sadie considered the words carefully, weighing the secrets that she kept, before she nodded.

They stood in silence for a few more moments, soaking it in. Then Professor McGonagall turned smartly toward the stairs that would take them back down into the building. "Come, Sadie. It's time to go."

Fear and trepidation welled up inside Sadie and she fought the urge to back away, flee. Here, in her city, life at least was familiar, but to follow the older woman was to take a terrifying leap into the unknown. And yet, for reasons she couldn't explain, her heart told her to go.

With one last look, she bade the concrete jungle farewell…at least until they met again, and then followed the professor to the stairs.

**Author's Note**: I posted this second update quite quickly because the prologue was so short I figured I owed you guys a bit more. But from here on out I plan to update on a two week schedule. I have quite a bit of this story written, but I'm a teacher just starting back into school and a schedule like that gives me enough leeway to hopefully always stay ahead and so never run out of chapters to post.

As always, please let me know what you think of the story.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Harry was feeling peacefully full and content. That was hands down the best meal he'd eaten since he left Hogwarts at the end of term and now thoughts of bed and dreams were starting to creep into his mind. It was a wonderfully relaxed feeling and, despite the excitement of the World Cup in two days, he wished this evening could never end.

"While everyone is here, there's something I need to tell you all," Mr. Weasley suddenly announced, his voice quiet and serious, cutting through the easy after-dinner chatter. He caught Mrs. Weasley's eye and she nodded, setting her napkin down on the table and folding her hands.

Harry's blissful mood popped like a balloon and his stomach dropped, instantly sure that this would somehow be about him. It usually was when Mr. Weasley made a statement like that with him present. Ron and Hermione apparently had the same thought because they both turned to look at him, but he just shrugged his shoulders in confusion.

"We have someone else joining us tomorrow, staying until the new Hogwarts term starts," Mr. Weasley continued carefully.

"Going to the World Cup?" Fred blurted out and Mr. Weasley nodded.

"What?"

"Who?"

"With us?"

Harry listened to the noisy outbursts from the Weasley clan thinking maybe this just might not be about him for once.

"Quiet!" Mrs. Weasley suddenly said loudly, stopping everyone mid-breath. "I think if you lot would be quiet and listen," she continued in a calmer voice, "then your father was about to answer all of your questions."

Rather sheepishly, the Weasleys looked back at their father.

"As I was saying, tomorrow we have someone coming to the Burrow to stay with us for the rest of the summer. Dumbledore asked us if we'd be willing and we readily agreed. I expect each and every one of you to treat her kindly," he eyed the twins pointedly.

"Her?" Fred and George said in shocked unison.

"Why here, Dad?" Charlie asked calmly.

Mr. Weasley sighed, his eyes sad again. Now that Harry thought about it, Mr. Weasley had seemed a bit melancholy all evening, which was so uncharacteristic for him.

"Her father was my best mate, many years ago before he died. We would've volunteered even if Dumbledore hadn't asked. Her name is Sadie McLauchlin."

For a moment there was complete, stunned silence and then everyone started to speak at once.

"Do we know her?"

"I don't remember any Sadie at school…"

"Is she a first year?"

"She's coming to the Cup with us?"

Mr. Weasley held up his hand to stop the barrage of comments from his loud brood.

"Sadie's situation is rather…unique," he said quietly.

"What do you mean, Dad," Bill asked, voicing the question Harry and everyone else wanted to know.

Mr. Weasley sighed. "Sadie's life…hasn't been easy."

Harry heard a disgusted snort from the other end of the table and looked down to find Mrs. Weasley frowning. It seemed as though she very much wanted to add to that statement but Mr. Weasley gave her a meaningful glance and she kept silent.

"As I said, her life hasn't been easy. She's a very powerful young witch but she's never had the opportunity to attend school. She should have started Hogwarts five years ago but no one could find her."

Around the table, people were doing rapid calculations to figure out the age of their impending guest, all except Ron who blurted out with a confused expression, "No one could _find_ her?" He shook his head as if disgusted at the thought that adults could actually _lose_ a person!

"So, she's sixteen?" said Fred before anyone could respond to Ron.

"And just starting Hogwarts?" added George.

"As a first year?" they finished in unison, voices full of horror.

"No, of course not. Dumbledore has a plan to help her catch up. She's never formally been to school, but she's not completely without magical ability or training. She'll be starting as a fourth year – a few years behind but not as bad as it could be."

Harry glanced around the table as discussion continued about this mysterious girl who would be coming to stay with the Weasleys. It was interesting but other than the fact the girl would be joining his year he honestly couldn't see how it mattered to him. After all, it's not as though he made a huge habit of becoming chummy with girls several years older than him.

"Why did Dumbledore send her here, Dad?" asked Percy, his voice thick with disapproval. "I'm sure there are others with more erm…room than you and Mum."

"She can have your room, Perce," called Fred gaily.

"Yeah, you're hardly ever in it," added George.

Percy started to sputter about the important work he did for the Ministry in his room but Mrs. Weasley interrupted.

"Boys," she scolded sternly, glaring at them all. "Of course Dumbledore could have found somewhere else to send her, but we wouldn't hear of it. We insisted she come here. It's the least we could do."

"I owed Charlie that much," continued Mr. Weasley softly, a mournful, faraway sort of look in his eyes and his voice grave. Harry stared. He'd never seen the Weasley patriarch emotional like this. "For years I've questioned what happened, wondered if there was something more I could have done…"

"Arthur," Mrs. Weasley cut in quietly, her tone pulling him back on topic but her eyes soft and loving. For just a moment, Harry was captivated. Aunt Petunia never looked at Uncle Vernon like that…

"I'm sorry," Mr. Weasley said, clearing his throat and steadying his voice. "I suppose I could do a better job at explaining, couldn't I? Sadie's mother Jenny was in our same year in Gryffindor, and as I said, her father was my best mate at school, even though he was several years older than me. There weren't that many redheads around Hogwarts back then and we bonded over bad ginger jokes before finding out we shared a…er…rather fondness for Muggles. Over the years, that grew into a friendship not unlike Ron and Harry here. By the time Charlie left Hogwarts, we were inseparable."

"Wait," broke in Charlie with a sudden spark of understanding in his eyes. "Your friend's name was Charlie? Does that mean..."

"Yes, Charlie, you were named for him. And I believe he named his second eldest son Arthur," Mr. Weasley answered, a smile finally forming.

Charlie grinned, a pleased look on his face. "Finally, proof that my name wasn't just random, unlike the rest of you lot! I always knew I was the favorite son…"

"Hey!"

"Watch it!" the twins growled, glaring.

Harry shook his head, cutting in before all the Weasley boys could really get going on each other. "Mr. Weasley, you keep saying _was_ and _were_ when you talk about them? So both her parents are dead?"

"Yes, Harry," responded Mr. Weasley. "Her parents are dead. Her whole family was killed."

"Voldemort?" he pressed, ignoring the flinches from around the table.

"I don't really know," Mr. Weasley answered him after a moment. "That's part of why everything about this is so shrouded in mystery. Molly and I, along with others like Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall, firmly believe that followers of You-Know-Who were behind the murders, but there's no proof. The crimes were committed in such a way that it's possible they were simply atrocious acts of random Muggle violence."

Harry frowned, recalling some of the more awful stories he'd overheard from the Dursleys' telly on the evening news. He was well aware that Muggles could be every bit as cruel and evil as wizards.

Next to him, Hermione was shaking her head in sorrow and disgust. "What can we do to help her, Mr. Weasley?" she asked sincerely.

"Just be her friend." He smiled slightly at the young witch who had become almost a part of his own family. "I imagine, despite everything Albus and Minerva can do, things will be difficult and frightening for her. We just want her to have some friends and people she knows before the school year starts."

Mrs. Weasley picked up the conversation. "Take her under your wing and show her around. Look out for her at first. You all remember that exciting and yet terrifying feeling of your first week at Hogwarts, trying to find your way around and figure everything out."

They all nodded firmly, Harry more fervently than the rest. He vividly remembered that first week when the eyes of the entire school seemed to be glued to the scar on his forehead. He felt a bit of kinship with this unknown girl take hold inside him, understanding now what Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were getting at.

"Well," continued Mrs. Weasley, her next words echoing exactly what Harry had just been thinking. "Imagine all that with the added burden of everyone knowing you are new and behind in school."

"Hermione and Ginny, show her around the dorm and introduce her to the other girls. Professor McGonagall gave her a private sorting to lessen her embarrassment and she's in Gryffindor," Mr. Weasley picked up the conversation again. "Ron, Harry – help her out with school and be her friend. Fred and George," he added, looking at the twins. "She's sixteen, like you two. She'll need some friends her own age who don't care she's a few years behind."

"As if success in school was our number one criteria," Fred scoffed. Harry noticed Mrs. Weasley's face darken with a frown.

"Don't worry, Dad," George added before his mother could respond to that. "You can count on us."

"The rest of you," finished Mr. Weasley looking at his older children, "just make her feel welcome and answer any questions she might have. This is all going to be so new and very unnerving for her."

"Don't worry, Dad," repeated Charlie. "We'll make her feel like part of the family. But why are you so sure she'll have a hard time making friends? She might be behind, but she'll still be surrounded by kids her own age."

Mr. Weasley paused and Harry got the impression he was trying to figure out how to say what he needed to tell them next.

"I mentioned Sadie hasn't had the best of circumstances in life. I'm not going to tell you much more than that; she can tell you more if she ever wants to and we – your mother and I – don't know all that much anyway. But there's one thing we do know and you should be prepared for as well."

Harry felt an ominous tickle of worry settle in his stomach. What was wrong with this girl? What horrible thing was Mr. Weasley so reluctant to tell them? Was she from a bad family? Voldemort's long lost niece or something that would make people shun her? Some horrible inherited power? He knew first hand that you couldn't pick your relatives, or your abilities, so whatever it was he figured he wouldn't hold it against her.

"Well, what?" demanded Ron impatiently.

"Sadie can't talk, dear," replied Mrs. Weasley gently. There was shocked silence all around as she continued with a sad voice. "A powerful spell took her voice away sometime during the years she was missing. Professor McGonagall gave her a notebook for writing and she says when encouraged Sadie uses some form of sign language, but it's still going to be difficult for her, getting people to understand what she wants to say. We're hoping an extra week or so here before school starts will help her feel more comfortable communicating, and give us all a leg up on learning how to recognize a few of her signs as well."

For several minutes no one said anything. Finally, Ron ventured a quiet question. "She can't talk?" he asked as if not sure he'd heard correctly.

His mother nodded.

"Because of a spell?"

She nodded again.

"But…that's awful!" Hermione finally burst out. "Can't anything be done? Reverse the spell or something? Surely Dumbledore must know how! Or St. Mungo's! Or there has to be information in the library no one's thought of –"

"Hermione," interrupted Mr. Weasley, "Dumbledore's investigated every option, and while I'm sure he won't mind if you look again, right now there really is nothing that can be done but help her have confidence communicating and learn to understand her. It was old, dark magic that took her voice. Those types of spells don't always have reversals."

Hermione didn't argue but by the look in her eyes Harry knew she wasn't dissuaded. She'd probably hit the library running their first day back, dragging Ron and him along in her wake.

"Well, it's getting late, dears," spoke Mrs. Weasley, standing and starting to gather scattered dishes. "We really should all be getting to bed. Big day tomorrow. Ginny, Hermione, if you could help me with these platters and Fred and George, the chairs…"

"Molly, wait," interrupted Mr. Weasley again. "I need to finish telling them everything, especially Harry."

"Arthur, I don't think now's the time. They've had all the news they can handle tonight."

"And when will be the right time? She's arriving in the morning?"

"It's the kind of news you don't just dump on a person! Especially with everyone else here. Give them time to get to know each other."

Harry, Hermione, and all the Weasley children's heads were swiveling back and forth between Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, who almost seemed to have forgotten they were there.

"Molly, it's not bad news. Why are you worried about telling him?" Mr. Weasley asked his wife.

Mrs. Weasley seemed to deflate, sinking back into her chair. "Because I know how I'd feel, finding out something like that after fourteen years with everyone watching."

"Finding out what?" Harry asked, unable to stop himself. "What does this girl have to do with me?"

"Quite a lot, actually," said Mr. Weasley, smiling at him, some of the sadness of before dissipating. "Sadie's your cousin, Harry."

For the third time that evening a completely shocked silence settled around the table.

"My _cousin_?" Harry choked out.

"Yes, Harry."

"But…what? How?" he stuttered, his brain whirling in confusion. "But the Dursleys never –" Harry stopped that thought. The Dursleys hadn't told him a lot of things, like, oh, the fact that he was a wizard and his parents had been murdered by the worst Dark Wizard to walk the land in a century or so.

"Your aunt and uncle didn't know anything about her, Harry," added Mrs. Weasley gently, apparently resigned to telling the story now. "She's not related to them."

Harry's brain struggled to process that. "But that means she's…my dad…" He trailed off, noticing that Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Fred, and George were all staring at him with expressions ranging from concern to bafflement.

"Sadie's parents were Charles Stuart McLauchlin and Jenny Potter McLauchlin – your father's older sister," said Mr. Weasley quietly.

A million thoughts and emotions raced through Harry's brain at lightning speed. He had a cousin! A cousin he didn't know about. A cousin who wasn't Dudley the Human Whale. A relative who wasn't remotely related to the Dursleys and might not hate the very sight of him. It was not unlike the whirl of feelings he'd had when he found out he had a godfather who actually cared for him.

"Why didn't anyone ever tell me?" he finally blurted, rather louder than he meant to in his excitement.

"Well, remember, until a few days ago we didn't know if she was even alive," answered Mr. Weasley wearily. "She vanished the day her family was killed and most everyone assumed she'd died, also. After years of searching, even those of us who held out hope had to admit it was probably true."

"You'd already lost so many people, dear, we didn't want to burden you with even more relatives who'd been killed," said Mrs. Weasley, her voice quavering. "Why raise your hopes about a cousin who was most certainly dead?"

Her words brought home a fact Harry hadn't really articulated in his brain yet – her parents had been murdered; his own aunt and uncle. The fact that he hadn't even known about them until five minutes earlier didn't stop the familiar rush of grief and anger that filled him just as it always did when he thought of his own parents dying. They were two more people Voldemort had somehow taken away from him and two more reasons to make sure he never got the chance to rise to power again.

"Now, it really is time for bed," Mrs. Weasley finished firmly, swiping suspiciously at her cheek with the back of her hand. "Everyone off to sleep. Your father and I will clean up here. Off you go, off you go!" She made shooing motions with her arms, sending all of them, even her grown children, off into the warm light of the Burrow. "And go right to sleep!" she called after their retreating backs. "No talking!"

"Are you okay?" Hermione whispered anxiously to Harry as they climbed the stairs to the bedrooms. She and Ron hadn't stopped throwing him worried glances since Mr. Weasley had dropped his bombshell news.

"Yeah," answered Harry, meaning it. "I mean I just got a relative who doesn't hate me or think I should be committed. That's good, right?"

"That's the spirit, Harry," said Fred, clapping him on his shoulder.

"Can never have too many relatives, I say," said George. "I mean look at us. Have to rent a small village every time they all come round."

Harry laughed at the twins but the sound of Mrs. Weasley's footsteps approaching sent them all – Bill and Charlie included – scattering before he could say anything in reply.

Harry followed Ron into his flaming, orange room, Fred and George trailing behind. For a while no one said anything, finding pajamas and climbing into the four beds that were crammed into the small attic space.

"Where d'you reckon she's been?" whispered Ron eventually, picking up the conversation from earlier. "If they thought she was dead?"

Harry had been wondering the same thing but he wasn't exactly sure he wanted to know. Parents killed mysteriously, voice taken by some evil spell, missing for who knew how many years…? Wherever she'd been it couldn't have been good.

"I dunno," he replied. "But your dad told us she's had it rough."

"Think she's been stuck with Muggles like you?" asked George.

"An orphanage maybe?" suggest Fred.

"I hope not," muttered Harry, thinking how well that had worked out for one Tom Riddle.

A soft knock at the door interrupted them.

"Ron, it's us," Ginny's voice hissed through the keyhole. "Let us in."

Ron got up and opened the door for Ginny and Hermione to slip inside. Ginny settled on the end of George's bed; Hermione on Harry's.

"Bill and Charlie coming?" asked Fred. Harry noticed he didn't bother asking about Percy.

"No," Ginny answered. "Said they were tired."

"Mum better not hear us," muttered Ron.

"She won't," said Ginny confidently. Everyone looked at her curiously. "I woke the ghoul up before we came in," she explained. "Mum won't be able to hear anything but him for at least an hour."

Fred and George gave their little sister an appraising, almost parental look.

"Gin," Fred said, hand over his heart in exaggerated emotion, "you make us so proud."

"Growing up so devious and all," George added, wiping at his eyes.

"Oh, shut up, you two," Ron groaned, chucking his pillow at the twins.

"So, what did we miss," Hermione asked.

"Not much. We were just trying to figure out how Dumbledore and everyone else could have lost her." Ron replied. "I mean, how do you just lose someone?"

"It's not as hard as you think," Hermione answered knowledgeably. "Look at Peter Pettigrew."

Ron grimaced and stuttered while Harry frowned. "You think my cousin's been living as a rat?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Of course not. I'm just pointing out how easy it is to lose track of someone, especially if everyone thinks they're dead."

There was silence for a moment as they all considered that. Harry couldn't help but feel grateful that even though he'd spent the first twelve years of his life in ignorance of the magical world at least that world had kept track of him. What if Dumbledore had given up after that first letter went unanswered? That was a truly horrifying thought. Harry suppressed a shudder.

"Wonder what she's been through?" George mumbled

"And not one of you is going to ask her," Hermione said sternly, giving each boy a glare.

"Aw, Hermione!" several voices whined. "Why not?"

"I mean it," she cut them off. "Your parents hinted that she's been through some pretty horrible things. She doesn't need us prying into them. Harry, do you like it when people ask you about what happened to your parents?"

Harry shook his head.

"Then I'm betting she's not going to want to talk about it either."

Reluctantly, five heads nodded.

"I wonder what she's like?"

"Maybe she's –"

"Sh!" Ginny suddenly hissed, holding a finger to her lips. Dead silence filled the room allowing all of them to hear distant footsteps on the stairs.

"Mum's coming!" Fred whispered. "Quick, get out!"

Hermione and Ginny leapt to their feet and dashed out of the room while George flicked the light out. All four boys threw themselves into bed and pulled the covers over their heads, pretending to be asleep. A few moments later the door opened a crack. Harry held his breath but after several seconds, it closed again. He let out a sigh of relief, but no one dared talk after that. One by one, they drifted off to sleep. Harry, however lay awake long into the night, mulling over everything he'd learned and wondering what this new cousin would be like as he listened to Ron's snores.

**Author's Note**: I know I said I'd be updating every two weeks, but I have decided to drop that time down to one. I'm having fun with this and seem to be okay keeping ahead on chapters, and I want to keep people interested. If you have read and reviewed this story, thank you so much! It means the world to me!

Lastly, thanks as always to the wonderful Smuffly for her beta-ing.


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

"You're very quiet tonight, Minerva," Albus said suddenly, returning his cup of tea to the saucer with a tiny click and setting them both on the table next to his armchair. "You haven't even complained about Argus rearranging the suits of armor again."

"The suits of armor will simply migrate back to their preferred corridors in the night," she answered, setting aside her own cup with a shake of her head. After a friendship that spanned more than half a century, the two had learned to often enjoy a companionable silence during their habit of taking a late-night cup of tea together once a week. But it also meant that Albus knew the difference between when she was thinking contentedly and when she was stewing.

"You're worried about Sadie," he said quietly, leaning back into the chair.

"Aren't you?" she snapped then dropped her head slightly in contrition. Albus didn't deserve her frustration, but her friend showed no reaction to her moment of weakness.

"Yes, but I also believe the girl has more in her than meets the eye. She will surprise us."

Minerva looked up, pondering his response and the deep feelings it stirred in her, but somehow she managed to hold them at bay behind a wall of practicality. "Her academics are all over the place, though," she went on, aware Albus had broached the subject because he knew she needed to talk about it but purposefully retreating to the safety of unemotional curriculum. She settled back in her own chair and reached for the small pile of parchment on the table, drawing it to her and putting on her glasses. "The exams show a study of contradictions. Potions – surprisingly excellent, and her understanding of Herbology and magical creatures approximates that of others her age, but her wand work, however, is completely subpar. In fact, she almost seems to have a fear of wands or at the very least a deep distrust…" Minerva shook her head, aware of the implications of her words as she again forced her rising sentimentality into submission.

Best to stick to the dry facts.

"I seriously considered putting her with the first years for History of Magic, but Binns is so indomitably boring most of her classmates wouldn't do any better if I administered the same test," she finished with a small scoff, unable to hide her distaste.

Albus gave a chuckle. "His teaching has always lacked a certain…life to it, hasn't it." His eyes twinkled with repressed mirth.

Minerva fought the urge to groan at yet another of his bad jokes and continued with her notes. "Beyond her magical training, however, I'm also concerned about her basic education. Her reading skills are exemplary and her writing fine, if you can discount the handwriting, but her grasp of advanced mathematics beyond the concepts of fractions and measurements is pitiful. She will need remedial aid in that area as well as her magical studies." Minerva sighed, her worry building despite her efforts to contain it.

"Given a willing pupil and an excellent teacher, educational shortcomings can easily be remedied, and I'm certain in this situation we have both," her friend said with a gentle smile. "Minerva, this list of academic concerns isn't what's really bothering you. You're using it to avoid your feelings again."

Minerva sighed and lowered the parchment to her lap as she pulled off her glasses, looking across the small sitting room to her friend. Sometimes she almost hated that he knew her so well. And what was worse, this time he was right. She was such a mess of tangled emotions at the moment that she simply had to maintain her detached air as a survival tactic.

"It's Poppy's examination," she said quietly, conceding the battle and finally allowing an angry frown to tug at the corners of her mouth. "The malnutrition, the marks, the way they crippled her and put that…that _thing_ on her!" Her voice grew louder as she spoke until she caught and reined herself back in. "So much damage done, and we don't even know how or why… You didn't see her in New York, Albus, huddled in that corner, full of fear and distrust. How can we in good conscience set her adrift in this madhouse in less than two weeks when she still has so much healing to work her way through?"

"Have you considered that perhaps this _madhouse_ as you called our fine school is exactly what she needs to _start_ that healing? And who better to help her begin that recovery than Arthur, Molly, and the children? You know she'll never want for love again – or food for that matter – once Molly gets her hands on her. And I predict that the Weasley children and Harry will have her sneaking around, breaking rules and getting detentions in no time."

In spite of the seriousness of their topic, Minerva raised an eyebrow. "You are aware that as headmaster of this school you really shouldn't take such a gleeful approach to rule breaking."

"Certain rules are meant to be broken, my dear Minerva, at least once in a young person's life. I seem to recall quite a few you used to disregard yourself."

Minerva shook her head, giving him an annoyed glare which he just waved off with a laugh.

She rewarmed her tea with subtle twist of her wand and brought the cup back to her lips, letting the silence descend as they each got lost in thought. The weight of the previous conversation dragged her thoughts back down alleys of painful memories, however, and finally she had no choice but to speak once more. "I keep seeing Jenny," she admitted, her voice unusually thick with emotion. "That day I had to tell her about James and Lily. She was so devastated and heartbroken. She begged and begged me to be able to care for Harry, and I had to tell her no."

Something very much like pain and regret filled her old friend's face suddenly and she realized how her words had sounded. She knew his reasons and could even grudgingly agree with them, but Harry's summer living arrangements were a topic Albus and she did not see eye to eye on and therefore one not often discussed. Still, she hadn't meant to hurt him. She hurried on.

"Only now in my mind, the scene is turned on its head, and she keeps asking me why we didn't care for Sadie, why we lost her little girl. I don't know how to answer." She stopped abruptly, clamping her jaw down before any more foolish nightmares could slip out into reality.

Albus steepled his fingers, his expression grave. Before them, the fire crackled and popped in the hearth, stirring Minerva's dark thoughts off on a small tangent as the headmaster sat silently, weighing his words. In the leaping flames she saw the image of a teenaged girl – small and ragged – unable to express her gratitude for the warmth of the fire she'd finally worked up the courage to approach…

Minerva shook her head, forcefully burying the mental picture again just as Albus finally spoke.

"Evil doesn't make answers convenient. You know that. Sometimes, it even leaves us without them, just awful, open questions that we can never close. Despite everything we try to do, evil wins the battle, and beautiful, innocent people like Sadie pay the price. But, I also know that while evil might claim victory in some battles, as long as we keep fighting it will never win the war."

He paused, his eyes full of sorrow. "We don't know what happened that day, or where Sadie has been these last seven years…what she's been through. We can make guesses, but honestly, we may never know. Evil won that battle and she slipped through a crack; something that's hard for us to accept. But really, the very fact that Sadie's here with us, starting her new life is testament not to that evil, but to her goodness. She fought it and survived – not unscathed, but alive. All we can do now is adjust the ultimate score and move forward."

Minerva pondered his words. Albus Dumbledore had a bit of a reputation as a silly, carefree old man, but she knew that was only a part of his personality that he deliberately allowed to take the forefront in order to mask who he truly was – a deep and wise man with more power than most cared to admit.

"Something else is eating at you, isn't it?" he said after drilling her with that intense gaze of his.

Minerva nodded. "Her knowledge of the Dark Arts is…" She trailed off, not quite sure what word to use. "Albus, she has an innate understanding of the topic, how to fight it, but also how to use it. Not wand work – just instinctual, natural magic. It worries me. There is just so much of this I can't figure out. I'm sure Jenny had started teaching her basic subjects, and she was a little bookworm, which could explain some of it. But even besides the Dark Arts, she has knowledge she shouldn't. And yet, she has absolutely no experience with a wand. Don't you think we need to press harder to find out what's happened to her, where she's been?"

"No," he answered with conviction. "I think, for now, we should let her keep her secrets. She's scared and protecting herself in the only way that she knows how. I truly believe that's how she survived. Yet here we are, thrusting her into a strange and difficult world – didn't you just call it a madhouse? We both know children, much as we adore them, are not always kind or prudent. The best action, surely, is to trust her instincts. Let her keep her secrets until she finds out for herself who to trust."

There was a simple truth in his words. Minerva felt her worries calming slightly and she sipped her tea. Still, two more thoughts remained on the front of her mind.

"Should we attempt to locate Annalise? Tell her that Sadie has been found and is alive? Surely someone must have an idea where she's retreated to."

Albus's mouth dipped into a small frown, his face strange and unreadable. "No, don't. Not yet, at any rate. Let Sadie have one adjustment at a time, shall we?"

Minerva could see the wisdom in that. "And the glasses?" she asked lastly. "Are they as you suspected?"

"Yes," Albus answered.

"Well, what should we do? Don't we have an obligation to tell someone?" Her stomach clenched at the idea, knowing what it would mean for Sadie, but she just couldn't ignore the moral compass that ran through her.

"Minerva," the man said with a laugh, the odd expression of before vanishing, "I have never felt an obligation to tell anyone anything. There are far too many people in this world who think they know what's best, for them and everyone else, when in reality, a little less knowing about everything and everyone would be extremely good for them."

Minerva scrunched up her forehead, trying to make sense of what her friend had just said. He smiled at her expression.

"In other words," he clarified, leaning back and crossing his hands contently in his lap. "To quote a brilliant Muggle saying: What they don't know won't hurt them."

She grinned and just this once, Minerva found herself having to agree.

00000

In stunned awe, Sadie McLauchlin stared at herself in the full length mirror she'd come across in the long hallway. Slowly, she turned around, spreading her arms out as she glanced up and down, still hardly able to believe her eyes.

She was wearing clean, new clothes that had actually been bought just for her. The fabric of the blouse was soft and delicate, and she couldn't help reaching up every once in a while to touch it with her fingertips, still amazed that something so nice could belong to her now. The skirt was simple, but they'd let her choose it, and to her the dusty blue color was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen. And to top it off, she had shoes on her feet! Real, new shoes! Over the years, shoes had become the greatest of luxuries, one she didn't often get to indulge in. Her last pair, so graciously given to her by that kind librarian who saw her distress when informed of the library rules, had been stolen months ago. But now, she had shoes again – ones she'd picked out herself. It made her feel incredibly special.

Sadie couldn't help thinking she looked so strange, with her hair washed and combed and the dirt all gone. She almost didn't recognize herself; only her glasses were familiar, the one part of her past appearance she could never replace.

She stopped turning and faced the mirror, gazing intently, her thoughts racing. So much had happened so quickly. Just days ago she'd been begging on the streets of New York with no thoughts other than to stay alive and stay away from _her_. She'd never made any plans for the future because she wasn't sure she'd even have one. Now she was in England – well Scotland to be exact as she remembered Professor McGonagall telling her that was where the castle she'd spent the last few nights at was located – preparing to go to school for the first time in her life like a normal human being!

It overwhelmed her and at least a dozen times a day it took every bit of courage she had to stay, to fight the deeply ingrained need to run and hide, to not trust. Back in the shadows of her past, when she'd been a different person, she remembered trusting people openly and instinctively. And then _that day_ happened and that trust had been shattered forever.

But somewhere, buried deep inside, a little girl's belief in light and goodness had survived; the knowledge that love existed and there was more to life than pain and suffering. It's what made her fight to stay alive, to claw her way back up each time she felt she couldn't go on.

When she'd looked up in that flat to see Professor McGonagall standing there and a million memories had crashed into her, that desperate part of her soul which had held out for something better cracked through the walls necessity had built around it and she found herself risking everything for one moment of trust. Her cynical mind had screamed at her not to, but her battered and lonely heart knew she must.

And they'd been so kind to her, Professor McGonagall and Professor Dumbledore. So patient and understanding. The first few days she'd lived in terror that the other shoe was going to drop, that they'd turn on her and she'd find herself trapped, a prisoner again. But now, even though she couldn't explain why, she knew that would never happen. These people did care for her; she really was finally safe. So, when her instinct to flee tried to overpower her because years of behavior couldn't be undone in a few days, she latched on to the thought of the two teachers, the kindness they'd given, and forced herself to remain.

"You look very lovely, Miss Sadie."

Sadie spun around in surprise at the voice and then blushed to find Professor Dumbledore standing there smiling at her.

She smiled back, ducking her head.

"But I believe Professor McGonagall is searching for you. It's time to go."

A spark of panic shot through Sadie and her smile faltered. _Can't I stay here with you?_ she longed to ask but the old professor wouldn't understand her signs and she was too embarrassed to write the question on the wonderful, new notebook Professor McGonagall had bought for her in New York. But somehow he read her mind.

"I'm sorry but you can't stay here. Not just yet," he said kindly. "The school has preparations for start of term that need to be done, and you, my dear girl, have people you need to meet, friends to make."

[I'm afraid,] her hands confessed suddenly, shaking as she formed the words. [I can't do this.]

To her surprise, Professor Dumbledore seemed to know what she said. He stepped up and reached a hand out, running it gently down her hair in a grandfatherly gesture. "Sadie McLauchlin, you can do this. You'll see. You will rise, like a phoenix from the ashes, and someday you will burn bright with life and hope again."

He dropped his hand and Sadie felt tears prick the corners of her eyes. It had been a long time since someone had found such goodness in her.

"Now," the professor continued, the moment passing, "it would be unfair to keep Professor McGonagall waiting any longer, don't you agree?"

Sadie nodded. She glanced one last time at her strange, new reflection in the mirror and then turned and followed Professor Dumbledore down the corridor.

**Author's Note:** Thanks to Pix and CambAngst for ideas and encouragement as I struggled through the first part of this. And as always, thanks to my beta-reader, muse, and friend Smuffly - for everything!


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Standing on a rather crooked set of stairs, Sadie clutched the old carpet bag that had been loaned to her and stared at the strange house. Beside her, Professor McGonagall reached out and rapped smartly on the front door. Sadie felt the surge of nerves and fear well up inside her again but she tried valiantly not to let it show. Suddenly, she heard a stampede of footsteps rushing for the door.

Professor McGonagall glanced at her and obviously saw something of her thoughts reflected on her face. The older witch's expression softened slightly. "Don't worry, Sadie. They may sound and often behave like a pack of rather wild monkeys, but they are one of the best wizarding families in all of England. You'll be fine."

Sadie nodded weakly just as the door jerked open and the waiting was over.

"I said hush! You are not all going to mob her at the door!" the red-haired woman called over her shoulder to what sounded like a huge crowd. Then she turned around and Sadie suddenly found herself enveloped in a warm, loving hug. Shock swept through her and she froze, panic building. She hadn't been embraced like that since…since her own mother was alive.

Professor McGonagall came to her rescue.

"Molly, let the child breathe! She's not going anywhere," she said exasperatedly.

The red-haired woman clung on for a few seconds longer then reluctantly let go and stepped back, wiping a hand at suspiciously glistening eyes. Sadie sucked in a gulp of air and turned her eyes to the ground, gripping her bag with trembling hands as a tall, red-haired man with glasses appeared behind the woman in the doorway.

"Molly, Arthur," Professor McGonagall spoke up, "this is Sadie McLauchlin."

The man reached around his wife and extended his hand to her. "Sadie," he said solemnly, "you look so much like your father. I'm sure they've told you he was a very good friend of mine, your mother as well, and we're so glad to have you staying with us."

Mention of her parents sent a burst of unexpected pain through her. It had been so long since she allowed herself to think of them – to remember… Still, she was an expert at ignoring pain, so she shoved the hurt away and juggled her bag to one side. Hesitantly, she shook his hand, unnerved by the formality.

"Well, there's no need for us to all keep standing here in the doorway," Mrs. Weasley bustled, putting an arm around her shoulders and pulling her toward the house. "Come in and meet everyone."

Sadie threw a panicked look at Professor McGonagall, causing the old teacher to smile fondly. "You'll be just fine, Sadie. I shall see you at Hogwarts at start of term." She barely had time to nod before she was drawn into the house by Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.

Despite her fear, Sadie found she couldn't help looking around in awe. She'd always known her family was magical, that she was a witch, but she'd also known they had to try and keep that magic hidden; they were trying to pass as Muggles after all. So she wasn't entirely sure what she'd expected from the house of an openly magical family but this certainly wasn't it. The fading memories of her own, large farmhouse were of a comfortable mix of ordinary Muggle items and carefully disguised magical ones. Her mother had thrived on order and neatness, relishing the challenge of carving a home out of the old place that embraced their magic but didn't advertise it. This, however, was far from orderly and neat. Instead it was all haphazard afghans, tea kettles, and well-worn furniture, oozing magic left and right.

Then Sadie noticed what seemed to be a whole crowed of ginger-haired people surrounding her and she forgot all about the house itself. Her alarm returned full force and she gulped, looking down at her new shoes when she realized they were all staring at her. Finally, someone spoke.

"Are you sure she's Harry's cousin, Dad?" one of the tall teenagers asked, standing next to someone who obviously had to be his twin. "Because with hair like that I'd say she's actually our cousin."

Several people chuckled and Sadie self-consciously reached up and touched the end of the long, red plait that hung over her shoulder. Mrs. Weasley frowned at her son but the comment broke the tension and Mr. Weasley stepped forward.

"Let me introduce everyone," he said. He started at the tall man with long hair on the far right. "This is Bill, our eldest." He then pointed to the twins. "George and Fred. And behind them is Charlie, our second oldest. And then Percy. He just finished Hogwarts and has a new job working at the Ministry."

Sadie thought Percy, a tall kid with glasses like his father, looked rather annoyed by the whole process going on around him, but Mr. Weasley ignored this and kept on with the introductions. He placed his hands on the shoulders of the only ginger-haired girl in the room. "This is Ginny, our only daughter. She'll be a third year at Hogwarts this autumn. And this is our youngest son Ron, his friend Hermione, and last but not least your cousin, Harry Potter."

Sadie's head was spinning from the introductions, and she knew there was no way she'd remember all these names until she'd heard them several times, but one name she did recognize – Harry Potter. Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall had both spoken of him often in the last few days, but more than that, she remembered – long ago conversations by her parents about her Aunt Lily, Uncle James and Cousin Harry…drawings carefully colored and childish letters penned to be folded happily and sent away…her mother's quiet pain when nothing ever came back in return…

She stared intently at the dark-haired boy before her, lost in a whirl of emotions and questions of her own. They both wore glasses but that was their only real resemblance. In fact, they probably didn't appear any more related than the rest of the world, her taking after her dad and Harry, she suddenly realized, looking very much like the boy she remembered seeing in her mum's old photo albums.

"Um, hi," her cousin said awkwardly, waving a little before shoving his hands nervously into his pockets as Sadie realized she'd been staring. Blushing again, she barely returned his wave. They stared at each other for a moment more then looked away, both uncomfortably aware they had no idea what else to say. And it was not as if that was even an option for her anyway.

If she was completely honest with herself, Sadie knew that was one of the roots of her paralyzing fear. So many years spent in silence had changed her, and even though she'd fought back, embracing the opportunity to learn sign language when given it and finally reclaim her voice, it was no longer her first instinct to use words. On the streets, signs meant nothing to most people, or worse, signaled a weakness. As long as she didn't try to communicate, she could let people believe she was only shy, but as soon as she tried to speak, whether it was through signing or writing, the truth was out there, leaving her exposed and vulnerable – an easy target. She might be safe now, but she couldn't shake the ingrained feeling that she would willingly be giving up an advantage to be used against her if she answered with her hands.

To her immense relief, Mrs. Weasley broke the loaded silence. "George, take Sadie's bag up to Ginny's room please," she said, springing into action and issuing orders to fill the pause. "I hope you won't mind bunking with the girls as we're a little full up right now with everyone home for the match tomorrow."

Sadie shook her head quickly.

"Good," Mrs. Weasley said with a smile, wrapping an arm around Sadie's shoulders once again. This time she managed not to flinch. "For heaven's sake, child, you're skin and bones! Come eat some breakfast!" The plump woman guided her through into a homey kitchen and pushed her gently into a chair at the old, scarred table before bustling off. "Arthur, the second leaf for the table, please? Charlie, Ron, the plates. Fred, glasses and silverware. Percy, the – "

"Mother," Percy interrupted. "I'll be late for the office."

"Oh, all right then, Percy, but do try to be home in time for dinner."

Percy nodded, then gathered up a formal looking briefcase and hurried out of the kitchen door. Sadie watched Mrs. Weasley sigh as she followed her son's retreating back, but then the woman shook her head and turned to the breakfast preparations again. "Bill could you manage the toast, instead? Hermione and Ginny come help me with the bacon and boiled eggs."

At the table, Sadie sat in awe of the chaos going on around her, feeling more than a little lost. She liked this family of happy, boisterous red-heads, but it had been so long since her life had included ordinary things like breakfast, setting the table, and people caring for each other that she felt vastly out of place.

And they were so _loud_!

Still, watching them stirred long buried memories of her family. On the dim edges of her mind she could remember crazy family dinners – her brothers running wild, little Clara giggling... Sorrow crept through her with smoky tendrils, dulled by years and distance from a sharp jab into a deep, always-present ache. The memories hurt, but still she craved them as they were all she had left now. She was just trying to remember exactly what her dad had always liked on his toast when someone sat down beside her.

"Sometimes it's easier to just stay out of their way," Harry said, giving her a tentative grin. "There's no stopping Ron's mum when she decides someone needs fattening up. I should know."

Sadie pulled herself back out of the past and tried to return the smile with a tiny one of her own, feeling very shy. As she did she felt something strange pass between them, as if they both just realized that given time they could be friends.

"I'm glad you're here, Sadie," Harry said impulsively.

Sadie blushed and ducked her head, but then remembered what both Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall had asked her to do. Forcing herself to give real words a try, Sadie reached into the pocket of her skirt and pulled out the little notebook and pencil.

_I'm glad to be here, too, _she wrote. And as she spelled it out, she realized that she really was. She was still very much terrified, but for the first time she found herself looking forward to this new future she'd been abruptly swept up in. It was everything she'd craved for so long.

"Breakfast is ready!" Mrs. Weasley called cheerfully just as Harry was reading her words and they were surrounded by everyone else before he could do more than smile in reply.

00000

Harry noticed that Sadie kept her notebook out on the table while they ate but the hearty meal was half over before she used it again.

"How do you know Professor McGonagall so well?" Charlie asked her suddenly during a lull in the conversation. Left with a question she couldn't answer with a nod or shake of her head, Harry watched Sadie hesitate before reaching for the little book.

She wrote for a moment before turning it around and showing the room. _I remember her from before…when I was a little girl._

That didn't really answer anything, but Harry could still hear Hermione's lecture from last night in his head and so he held back his questions.

"You know you can sign to us," Mrs. Weasley said softly. "We might not understand it right now, but how else are we supposed to learn, dear?"

Sadie's eyes widened in surprise. _You want to learn_? she wrote quickly.

"Of course!"

"Yeah!"

"This will be great!"

Harry watched as Sadie's shocked expression deepened at the enthusiastic answers, but he noticed a flicker of pleasure beneath it.

"Which kind do you use?" Hermione asked politely and Harry rolled his eyes. Typical Hermione, knowing there were different types of sign language.

She seemed shy at being the center of attention, but Sadie still wrote the answer on her notebook before passing it down the table to Hermione. "_American Sign Language_," his friend read out loud. "Why American and not British?" she asked, handing the little book back so Sadie could answer.

Sadie wrote again and then turned the book around to show the room her answer. _Because that's where I was when I learned, in New York City_, was the rather cryptic answer.

"You were in New York?" Harry blurted. No one had told him that!

Sadie nodded.

"Wicked!" Fred jumped in enthusiastically.

"What was it like?" added George.

"Oh, New York City has the largest magical population in the United States, even bigger than Salem and Roanoke Island!" Hermione suddenly cut in excitedly before Sadie could even answer George's question, her eyes bright with the thrill of sharing information. "The American Ministry is there, as well as the Ralph and Mary Hall Wizarding Museum and Library! There's a whole magical sixth borough in the city that the Muggles don't even know about. It sits on an island in Lower New York Bay and there's a special subway car that runs to it that only witches and wizards can find. It's so fascinating! I –"

"– read all about it in some book or another," Ron, Fred and George all finished for her at the same time.

Harry laughed along with the rest of the Weasleys as Hermione blushed slightly, glaring good naturedly at Ron and the twins. "Well, it _is_ fascinating," she defended. The she turned to Sadie again. "Did you spend a lot of time there? Were you ever able to visit the Museum and Library? I would absolutely love to go there sometime!"

Sadie stared at them for a long moment, a strange expression on her face, before she picked up her notebook again. This time she wrote slowly and seemed to hesitate before turning it around to show them.

_No, I never went there. It wasn't safe. I stayed in the regular parts of the city._

Harry wondered what she meant by it wasn't safe. He looked at her carefully and noticed she seemed a little pale and her hands were trembling. Before he could ask, however, the conversation moved forward, so he made a mental note to try and talk to his new cousin sometime. Once he knew her a bit better.

"Did you always live in the city?" Mr. Weasley asked.

Sadie shook her head no. _I lived on a farm in Vermont when I was little_, she wrote next, her hands steadier with the new topic.

"But you learned to sign in the city, right?"

To Harry it seemed almost as if Mr. Weasley was very carefully and gently fishing for information, as though maybe he was just as clueless about Sadie's past as the rest of them.

Sadie nodded this time. She paused, and Harry wondered if she would let that stand as her complete answer, but finally she lowered her head and wrote again.

_There was a large, Muggle library. I went there a lot. It was warm and dry and I loved the books. They offered some free classes and sign language was one of them. That's where I learned. I'm still learning. Only been signing for about a year and a half now. _

With sudden clarity, Harry found he understood what his cousin was _not_ saying. She went to the library because it was warm and dry, meaning wherever she was living was not. And no one had offered to teach her to sign, give her back a way to communicate – she had to find that on her own. That told him more than anything else about her situation. If she'd been living with even half-way decent people, they would have found a way for her to communicate. Even a Muggle orphanage would have done that much. So, either those she'd been living with didn't care at all that she was stuck in silence, or she wasn't living with anyone – she was completely on her own.

Harry felt a rush of sadness, which surprised him slightly as he still didn't really even know this girl who was his cousin, but he felt it just the same. He'd often thought bitterly that living on the streets might be preferable to living with the Dursleys, but he didn't really mean it. As miserable as it was at Privet Drive, he did still have a roof over his head when it rained or snowed, a bed to sleep in, and usually food – if grapefruit counted as food.

"So, what was the city like?" George broke into Harry's thoughts, going back to his original question that had been overlooked in the subsequent conversation.

Sadie's eyes glazed over and her expression became slightly haunted. When she showed them her notebook this time there was only one word on it.

_Lonely._

A sorrowful silence fell around them and everyone spent a few awkward moments shoveling food into their mouths, Harry and all the rest uncomfortably aware they didn't know what to say to that. Finally, Bill broke the mood.

"Hey, Sadie," he said, a forced cheerfulness in his voice. "How would I sign 'please pass the pumpkin juice'?"

Sadie thought for a moment, then moved her hands slowly through a serious of motions, everyone watching carefully. Bill studied them and then tried to copy the motions back.

"Mate, that was awful," Fred laughed as they all watched the grinning curse breaker struggle with the signs.

"Yeah, don't quit your day job," added Charlie as laughter broke out around the table once again.

It saved the meal, dragging the collective mood of the room back out of the dark corners it had been plunged into. They spent the rest of the time engaged in a lively game of "How Do You Sign" with someone pointing out an object and the group all trying to copy the signs Sadie showed them, more often than not making a great mess things and ending up roaring with more laughter. The activity helped pull the mute girl out of her shell, and by the end Harry was happy to see her laughing silently along with the rest. Not surprisingly, Hermione was by far the quickest at learning the new language, but Harry was rather shocked when Fred and George seemed to grasp it with relative ease as well.

"This is brilliant!" Fred exclaimed after having successfully signed something to his twin and understood the answer.

"Outstanding!" George agreed enthusiastically.

"Just think of the future!"

"Whole conversations – "

" – right under others' noses!"

"No more whispering – "

" – or passing notes in class!"

"Why didn't we think of this before?" they finished in unison.

Harry laughed along with everyone else except for Hermione and Mrs. Weasley who just looked scandalized.

00000

Finally alone, Sadie sat on a soft chair in the sitting room of the Weasleys' house – the Burrow she'd learned it was called. She smiled at the thought that a home could have a name, just like a person or an animal. Names were powerful; people named the things they loved. And they stripped them away from the things they did not…

She shivered, curling her feet up underneath her tighter and staring at the arm of the chair where a small bit of stuffing was escaping from a hole in the upholstery. There was a book open on her lap, loaned to her by her appalled cousin when he'd learned she knew none of the official rules for the sport they were going to watch tomorrow, but she wasn't really reading it. Her thoughts were lost, stuck in the past. Before her eyes danced not the words on the page but a memory instead, one burned into her mind...

_She waited so long at the doorway trying to find the courage to enter the room that she almost missed her chance. At the last moment, she clenched her hands and forced herself to slip inside, melting into a seat in the back corner and trying to be invisible. _

_She knew what she looked like – what she probably smelled like as well. No one noticed outside, or in the forgotten nooks and crannies of the library she usually frequented, but she was fully aware that in here, where _real_ people existed, she did not belong._

_But she wanted to – she _needed_ to. _

_She'd watched them leave two days ago, hiding in the shadows as she waited for the hallway and her path to the secret room with the water spigot to clear, just another class full of people who led normal lives letting out. Until she saw the teacher stop and answer a question – with his voice, but also with his hands._

_She'd froze, emotions so strong shooting through it rendered her numb. _

People could speak with their hands?

_The millions of trapped thoughts that filled her head, bashing around and around against her skull for years, all whirled to life at once. Overwhelmed, she'd fled – from the hallway and the building itself – running back to the dingy corner of the city that was hers for now, until someone forced her to move on. For two days after she hadn't moved, fighting a mighty inner battle, her strongest emotions at war – fear verses hope._

_Hope won._

_And so she sat in the class, a ragged shadow in the back, desperately soaking up every word like a dying man who's been lost in the desert does water. Watching everything, hearing everything, savoring it all._

_The teacher's hands moved fluidly, forming words, never knowing the key they were providing – the lock they turned._

_She tried to slip out unnoticed when the class was done, but her luck ran out._

"_Hey, wait," a voice called, and she drew back in fear still several feet from the doorway and her escape._

_With longing eyes she watched the rest of the class file out as the teacher came up to her. She turned back to find the man studying her, his expression soft and far too knowing. She felt exposed…vulnerable…scared._

"_You weren't here last week, were you?"_

_She shook her head, staring at the hole in her left shoe where her two largest toes stuck out. She knew what was coming. She would be told she had to leave. The lock would be shut again and the key taken away._

"_What's your name?"_

_Rage, frustration, fear, shame… The familiar plethora of paralyzing feelings swarmed her, making her feel like she would burst, but all she could do – all she could ever do – was stare at the teacher and helplessly shake her head._

_Something sparked in the man's eyes; it almost seemed like sorrow. "Oh," he said and then was silent for a very long time. Suddenly, he dug into his jacket pocket and pulled out a pad of paper and a pen. "Why don't you take these," he said, thrusting the objects at her, "and then I'll see you next Tuesday for class." _

_And then the teacher had walked away leaving her clutching the objects in shock._

_Later that night, in large letters that wobbled and swayed from ages without practice, a grubby, awkward hand gripped the pen and pushing way too hard on the pad of paper wrote the words: _My name is Sadie, My name is Sadie, _over and over again, until at least two precious pages were filled_.

_For the first time in nearly five years, her words finally escaped their prison in her mind. _

_And she had reclaimed her name._

00000

From the hall outside the sitting room doorway, Arthur silently watched the newest member of his household with troubled eyes as she sat in the chair, unmoving, staring off at what he knew must be memories only she could see. He understood her expression because he shared it, his own memories and emotions rising to the surface of his mind as he stared at her, saw the echo of her father in her face, her hair… The other children were all outside, gleefully trying to kill each other as only teenagers could do, but Sadie stayed behind, content to sit alone.

Arms suddenly slipped gently around him and a chin came to rest on his shoulder.

"Have you told her yet?" Molly whispered, turning to place a gentle kiss against his cheek. "That Charlie and Jenny made us her godparents?"

Arthur shook his head. "No. I don't know how to bring it up without opening the door to all of her painful memories."

"That door's already open, dear," Molly replied sadly, moving around to stand beside him and gesturing with her head to the girl before them, so lost in her thoughts she hadn't moved for almost ten minutes. "Just look at her."

Arthur put an arm around his wife's shoulders. "How do we help her, Molly?" he continued their hushed conversation, his heart breaking.

"With time and patience and understanding…and lots and lots of love. We can do that, Arthur. The proof's outside, tromping through my roses and hoping I won't notice if he gets Bill to mend them. Sadie isn't the only slightly broken child around here."

He couldn't stop the sad smile her words brought to his lips. "Harry at least has no trouble expressing himself."

"Sadie will get there. Just give her time."

With a sigh, Arthur let his head fall on top of Molly's and pulled her close, letting the past creep back up on them again just like the young girl they watched over.

**Author's Note:**

Not sure anyone is still reading this, but if you are, I'd love to know what you think. :) After a some good suggestions from a couple of friends, I have made a few minor edits to the last chapter, dealing with the mystery surrounding Sadie's abilities.

As always, I must give thanks and hugs to my friend Smuffly - you always have my back on this story!


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Sadie woke incredibly early the next morning and lay awake, listening to the unaccustomed sound of others breathing around her. It was strange, after being alone for so long, to sleep in the same room as the two girls she'd met the day before. Strange, but somehow nice as well.

They'd told her they were excited to be her friends. Sadie didn't know how that made her feel exactly. She'd never really had friends before. Siblings, but never a friend. It was an exciting thought, making friends like a normal teenager, but it was also distressing as she had no idea how to do it or what to expect. She'd been alone for so long, shoved aside and forgotten…

Knowing her mind was too full of whirling thoughts to go back to sleep, Sadie pulled her glasses off the top of her carpet bag and slipped them on, giving her a view of the dark of a bedroom hours before dawn. She glanced around the room. Wild brown hair tumbled out of blankets on the camp bed next to hers, Hermione Granger curled in a ball and all but hidden by her blankets. Ginny Weasley by contrast lay sprawled on her bed, covers kicked to the bottom, sleeping peacefully.

Moving silently so she didn't wake the other girls, Sadie slid off her own camp bed and crept the two steps in the small room to the window. The moon and stars still hung brightly in the pre-dawn sky as she gazed out and they gave her enough light to make out the outlines of trees and hills around. Her memory from yesterday filled in the rest.

It was so beautiful here! She'd often thought nothing could compare to the beauty of the Vermont countryside she'd grown up with, but this gloriously green place definitely came close. It made her want to pull off her shoes and slip away through the grass exploring, as if she were a little girl of six instead of a jaded girl of sixteen, as if her innocence and life hadn't been shattered by the last seven years. Perhaps, somehow, this place and these people could be a new beginning for her, a way past the sorrow, pain, and horror she'd lived with since she was nine. She'd pleaded silently for so many years for another chance – maybe she was finally going to get it.

Shaking her head to clear it of memories that shouldn't ever surface, Sadie snagged the book Harry had let her borrow and opened it by the window, using the moonlight to read with.

She wasn't completely ignorant about Quidditch; her brothers and dad had loved to talk about it, and now she thought about it she remembered that sometimes her dad would take the boys off into the woods to a secluded meadow where they could play mock games. Sadie barely remembered going with them once. Closing her eyes, she could almost feel again the thrill of zooming around on the back of a broom, clinging to Archie's shoulders as the wind whipped her hair about her face, squealing with glee, but when she reopened her eyes, the memory slid away like sand through a sieve, leaving only Ginny Weasley's dark bedroom behind.

Full of sorrow, Sadie turned back to the book and the chapter she'd been working her way through that explained all the rules of the game. She was only a few pages in when the bedroom door creaked quietly open and Mrs. Weasley appeared. She looked around and noticed Sadie sitting by the window.

"You're already up!" she whispered in surprise. "Did you sleep all right?"

Sadie nodded, standing. She held Harry's book up for the woman to see.

"Oh, trying to catch up a bit, dear?"

Sadie nodded again.

"Well, why don't you get dressed and head on down to the kitchen while I wake Ginny and Hermione. Breakfast is ready and the boys should be there soon."

Sadie quickly grabbed some clothes, choosing a button up shirt and jeans this time as they seemed more appropriate than her skirt for a sporting event, and then ducked into the bathroom, grateful for the chance to change away from curious eyes. It was as she pulling off her nightdress that she realized that wouldn't be an option for very much longer if she was to live in a dorm with several other girls. The thought sent a tide of panic rising inside her again. She tried to hold it back as she slipped on the new shirt but her fingers trembled as they worked on the buttons.

How could she possibly hope to hide the marks? What would the other girls think when they inevitably saw? What would she say to explain?

Trying to quell her shaking, Sadie finished dressing swiftly, then splashed some water on her face before brushing her hair back into its usual braid, telling herself the whole time it would somehow be okay.

The worry wasn't gone but she'd at least managed to contain it and stop the shaking by the time she stepped out of the little room. As she was leaving she met the boys trudging down the stairs half awake.

"Mphm, Saay," muttered the tall twin who had at least half an eye open and Sadie supposed it was meant to be 'Morning, Sadie.' Ron and Harry nodded at her as well while the other twin just leaned heavily on the handrail and looked ready to start snoring. Apparently, this house was not full of morning people.

The sight of the four disheveled and sleepy boys had an unexpected effect on Sadie. She felt her panic from before start to dissolve away. Instead, an emotion she hadn't experienced for so very long bubbled up inside her – the urge to laugh – and she couldn't stop the huge grin that split her face.

"How can you smile at this time of the morning?" asked Ron incredulously, most of his words coming through a huge yawn.

"Because she's evil," muttered the more awake twin, switching eyes to squint out of in a vain effort to wake up. "People who are chipper this early are very, very evil."

Somehow, the whole strange conversation made Sadie feel more at home and welcome than anything else, and so she just smiled again and followed the boys down to the ground level of the house.

Despite the early hour, the kitchen was bright and warm. Mrs. Weasley, who must have returned to the kitchen while Sadie was in the bathroom, was puttering cheerfully around the stove while Mr. Weasley sat at the old table, looking fully awake and excited. The boys struck up a conversation with him, something about Muggle clothes and Apparating. Sadie left them to it and shyly moved over to the stove by the red-haired woman.

[Can I help?] she signed slowly, hoping the woman would somehow understand.

"Oh, thank you, dear, but it's all ready. Just have a seat and eat up."

Sadie did as she was told, taking the offered bowl of porridge with a grateful nod. It was only a simple meal, but to Sadie it was wonderful. Hunger had been her one constant companion during the last seven years. She knew what it was like to be weak and dizzy from it, to honestly think she might not make it through the night. That nice but fussy Healer who'd examined her at the school had told the professors lack of proper food for so long was part of why she was smaller than others her age. After suffering so much from the lack of it, Sadie knew good, plentiful food was something she would never take for granted.

She realized she'd become lost in her thoughts again when Mrs. Weasley suddenly snapped sharply at one of the twins, causing her to accidentally drop her spoon on the floor. Blushing, she ducked to retrieve it as an argument broke out between the twins and their mother.

Feeling like an intruder in a private family matter, Sadie returned her spoon to the table and quietly sneaked out, grabbing the borrowed rucksack she'd been given.

The sky was still dark and the moon out. Sadie sat down on an upturned bucket to wait for the rest, soaking up the calm silence. In the stolen moments of solitude, her thoughts wandered, again caught between the present and the past, just as the world around her hung caught between the night and the morning.

Eventually, the door opened and the light of the house spilled out into the dark, bringing people along with it. Sadie stood, but otherwise stayed put, content to observe from the background. Finally, the goodbyes were all said and they were on their way.

They walked in the dark for a very long time. The others chatted around her but she was grateful no one tried to pull her into a conversation. It would have been too difficult to try and make herself understood and keep up the pace as well. At first she looked around with curiosity at the sleeping village and countryside, but soon she found herself struggling for breath and instead had to concentrate on keeping up, putting one foot in front of the other.

"Are you okay?"

Sadie's head jerked up and she was surprised to find herself flanked by the tall twins, Fred and George. She nodded quickly, but they didn't act like they believed her.

"Do you want me to carry that for you?" the one who hadn't spoken before asked, pointing to her rucksack.

Sadie gripped the straps tightly with both hands and shook her head. Harry's loaned book was in there, along with a few of the new clothes Professor McGonagall had bought her – but more than that she didn't want the others thinking she was so helpless and weak she couldn't carry her own bag.

"All right," the first twin said with an easy smile, and Sadie made a mental note to learn to tell them apart.

"But let us know –" finished the other.

"– if you change your mind."

They both smiled at her one more time and then strode off, moving to catch up to their sister.

The road took them out of the quiet village and up a steep hill. By the time they reached the top, Sadie was trembling and feeling faint. She collapsed on a large rock, panting, and simply watched as all the others looked around for the Portkey.

The struggle up the hill had left her far weaker than she wanted to admit, but more than that she as finding it increasingly difficult to keep her thoughts rooted firmly in the here and now; they kept wandering unbidden to the shadows of her past, released by the presence of people who pulled at her memories of home and family. It saddened her to realize those images from her childhood were fading, the voices she held so dear were growing faint and fuzzy in her mind. For too long she'd shut the memories out, unable to deal with the pain they also brought, and now she was paying the price.

"Sadie?"

She looked up at her name to find Ginny standing in front of her.

"Come on. We've found the Portkey and it's about to go."

Sadie scrambled to her feet and followed the younger girl to the rest of the group who were standing in a clump around an old boot. She noticed with surprise that two other people had joined them while she wasn't paying attention. _Snap out of it_! she admonished herself. It was dangerous to get lost in thoughts and lose track of the present.

Remembering the Portkey that had brought her to England from New York City with Professor McGonagall, Sadie put out a finger to touch the boot and then reached up and gripped her glasses tightly so they wouldn't fly off her face when she landed. As she felt the magic activate, she closed her eyes and willed her breakfast to stay in her stomach this time.

00000

_Flashes of light above her as creatures zoomed all around._

_Bodies – pushing, pressing, on all sides – too close! Too close!_

_The odors of sweat and sugar and dusty earth filling her nostrils._

_Noise! So much noise! Shouting and raucous singing and cheering! Too much noise! _

_She wanted it to stop! Needed it to go away!_

_Breathe!_ Sadie tried to order herself, tried to listen to the logical part of her brain, but she just couldn't! It was too much. She was surrounded, swept along in a great flood of people, surging, swelling, threatening to engulf her. Eyes – there were eyes everywhere – and so much magic. She could feel it thick in the air like a fog, waiting to snap and crackle into action.

Blinded by panic, she wanted to sink to the ground in a ball, throw her arms up and cover her face, shut it all out, but she also knew she didn't want to go back there, back to being a prisoner held by fear and terror and her own mind. Instead, she reached out and fisted her hands into back of the jacket worn by the red-haired man walking in front of her, not even sure exactly who it was, and clung on for dear life.

"IRELAND! IRELAND!" the celebrating crowd around her chanted with wild excitement, but Sadie only felt sick as she allowed herself to be pulled forward, her feet stumbling over the ground as her vision tunneled to include nothing but the black of the jacket she'd latched onto.

_So much magic! So many wands! _

The hordes pressing in on her from all sides weren't like the crowds of people she'd learned to slip unnoticed through on the streets of her city – they hadn't had the power to hurt her, not like _she_ had. But here, Sadie was surrounded by that power, and no matter how much she tried to remind herself that magic was good, could do amazing and wonderful things, her whole body and soul knew the real truth – that it could also be used to inflict pain and terror.

_Run!_

_Hide!_

The thoughts seared urgently through her brain but she fought them, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she tightened her hold on the fabric until her fingers turned bone white, letting the crowd simply carry her along through the cacophony.

00000

Bill Weasley sat quietly in a corner of the tent, his chair tipped back and his boots propped up on a convenient trunk. Around him, everyone else was laughing and squabbling happily about the match, reliving their favorite moments in loud, excited voices as they sipped their hot cocoa, but Bill stayed silent, his eyes fixed on the one other person who wasn't joining in the revelry: Sadie.

The girl rested cross-legged on the floor, tucked away in another corner, a mug of forgotten cocoa clenched in her hands and her eyes staring off vacantly behind her glasses. The others were so caught up in their post-game revelry that they didn't even notice. Honestly, Bill probably wouldn't have noticed either if not for what had happened on the way back from the World Cup.

When his jacket had been grabbed as they jostled through the crowd, he'd turned his head to tell whomever it was to get lost. He'd expected someone who'd taken their celebration a bit too far, but the words froze in his throat as he saw Sadie's terror-glazed eyes instead.

Sorrow had filled him and he turned his head back around, letting her cling to his coat for the rest of the walk back to camp, his thoughts churning.

And they were still churning as he sat there, watching her. Sadie was just a kid, only a few years older than his own kid sister; fear of that sort didn't belong on anyone's face, let alone someone so young. What horrors were in her past to make her feel such panic at an event that was supposed to be so much fun?

It worried him. His chosen profession had put him in contact with many of the worst aspects of magic. Some of the curses he encountered were truly horrific and he was grateful they'd been buried and forgotten by time.

But apparently not buried deep enough…

What curse had been used on this young girl? What evil had someone tampered with to cause such pain and damage? Dark, ancient magic of that kind was not something to be trifled with, nor was it generally plied without personal consequences. The old magic had a way of exacting a price for daring to call upon its power, almost as if it had a mind of its own. That was usually enough to deter any mostly-sane individual from tampering with it. It was frightening to think He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and his followers were willing to delve into those secrets despite the consequences.

And it was incredible sad that a young, innocent girl knew first hand of such evil, had been hurt so badly by it.

Bill's attention was suddenly pulled back to his present surroundings when Sadie carefully set down her mug of untouched cocoa on the floor and climbed to her feet, slipping out into the night, her expression haunted. He waited for just a few minutes, then made up his mind, rising quietly so as not to distract the others and following her.

The night outside was clear and bright and full of the sounds of happy celebrations. Fires still burned cheerfully in front of many tents and by the sound of it, the party in the Irish camp had almost reached the point of a riot, illuminated by the near constant flashes of fireworks.

Bill glanced around, but there was no sign of Sadie. She must have disappeared into the girls' tent.

He paused for a moment, debating the appropriateness of him entering when she was in there alone, but worry quickly overruled propriety.

"Sadie?" he called out, announcing his presence as he ducked under the opening and stuck his head through the doorway. "Sadie, may I come in?"

She was curled up in one of the faded armchairs that stood in the tent's small living area, and judging by the way she jumped, he'd obviously startled her.

"Sorry," he said quickly. The last thing he wanted to do was add to the discomfort he could practically see oozing from her.

Still, the gaze she turned on him was fearful, and for one brief moment distrust flashed across her face before she nodded hesitantly. She straightened in her chair, preparing to stand.

"No, don't get up. I just wanted to check on you, see if you were okay," Bill said, coming completely into the tent. Shyly, she settled back into the chair, pulling her feet up underneath her. Bill snagged the other armchair and moved it closer, sitting down across from the sixteen-year-old where he could see her writing with ease if she decided to try and speak. "I didn't mean to startle you," he added again.

She shrugged, saying without words that it was all right.

For a moment they sat there in silence, Bill studying his new surrogate family member and Sadie studying the pattered rug in order to avoid his gaze.

"You didn't enjoy the match tonight, did you?" he finally asked quietly.

Sadie's head jerked up, guilt flashing across her face and she shook her head quickly, as if to deny what he was saying.

"It's okay, Sadie. You don't have to like it. Quidditch isn't for everyone."

Still looking guilty, Sadie pulled out her notebook and wrote, handing it to him almost reluctantly.

_But the tickets were so expensive._

Bill recalled the conversation from the box before the match had started and mentally cursed Lucious Malfoy.

"Sadie, that doesn't matter. You never have to pretend to enjoy something when you don't. Not in this family."

He waited to see if she would respond, but when she stayed still, he went on.

"Sadie, afterward…in the crowd…"

The girl blanched, ducking her head, but Bill pressed on, sensing this was important. "It was overwhelming, wasn't it?"

Across from him, Sadie closed her eyes, and suddenly it was as if something let lose inside of her, some kind of barrier she'd been keeping in place by sheer force of will crumbled. Small tears started to leak about from behind her lashes, carving paths down her pale face as she started to tremble.

Bill acted on instinct, reaching across and taking her hand, squeezing it the same way he would have done if it was Ginny crying in front of him. Surprised, she looked up, meeting his eyes for the first time and he was grateful to see that while the anguish remained, the mistrust was gone.

"Magic –" he said seriously, holding her gaze, "or at least the people who use it – can cause a lot of hurting, can't it." It wasn't a question, and he didn't bother to beat around the bush or sugarcoat his words.

She wrinkled her eyes and Bill could see the unasked question in them.

"I'm a curse breaker," he explained. "I see the results of evil magic every day."

_Oh_, her eyes seemed to say, even though he could tell she didn't completely understand what that meant. Shakily, she reached up and wiped at the tears that were still falling down her cheeks with her free hand.

"Sometimes talking about things can help, you know…" Bill urged kindly, releasing her hand and leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees.

Quickly, she shook her head.

"Don't like sharing much, hmm? I understand that. And I bet the crowd out there tonight isn't the only thing that has you feeling overwhelmed. We're not exactly the quietest or calmest bunch around, are we?" he smiled, trying to put her at ease. "It's easy to get lost in a big family - don't always share things myself. But look, Sadie, I can tell you one thing about my lot - they care. We all care and want to help. Whenever you feel ready, you should know that whatever you tell us, however hard or scary it is - we'll treat that confidence with respect, and you too, for having the courage to share it. So, keep your chin up, okay, kiddo."

She gave him a watery smile at that and finally reached for her notebook again.

_Archie used to tell me that_, she wrote, the sorrow back in her eyes. _When I had a bad day._

"Archie…he was one of your brothers?"

Sadie nodded. _The oldest._

_Poor kid_, Bill thought, feeling sadness creep back up. So much taken away… They might sometimes drive him insane, but he couldn't image losing any of his siblings, let alone all of them and his parents, too. He tried not to let his thoughts show, however, as he spoke.

"Archie sounds like a smart guy."

Sadie smiled for real this time as she nodded. _He was brilliant_, she wrote, and Bill could see the pride contained in those three words.

"Well, I reckon I'm hardly fit to be called brilliant," he said with a shrug, "but I _have_ always felt it would be nice to have more sisters in this family. How about it? Care to adopt me as a big brother?"

Sadie looked at him for a long moment before she broke into a shy grin.

"I'll take that as a yes," he replied. "Now, as an official big brother, I want you to remember that I'm always here to listen, about anything, all right? I'm not pushing…just want you to know that. And feel free to ask any questions you want as well. I know there are probably a lot of things you're confused about right now."

She seemed to mull his words over for a moment before she picked up her notebook and wrote a few words. Bill hoped she might be about to open up slightly, but when she turned it around so he could read, the question wasn't what he'd been expecting.

_My cousin – Harry – is he famous?_

Bill leaned back in the chair, laughing out loud. "Picked up on that, did you?"

This time when Sadie answered, she did so with hesitant motions of her hands, which Bill took as a very encouraging sign. He didn't know exactly what she was saying, but when she made a small zigzag motion with her finger across her forehead he figured it out.

"People were looking at his scar?" he checked. "And whispering?"

Sadie nodded.

"Typical," he muttered rather grimly. Sadie looked puzzled. "Ask him about it. He'll tell you, I'm sure, but it's really not my place."

The girl nodded again and Bill noticed she looked exhausted.

"Well, I reckon I'll go see if the others are done arguing about Quidditch plays," he said, rising to his feet. "You going to be okay?"

She smiled at him. It was still a smile tinged with pain, but on the edges of it he could detect the glimmer of hope as well.

"Good," he replied. "But I mean it. If you ever need a brother to just listen, even when you're at Hogwarts, send me an owl."

[Thanks,] the teenager signed, something Bill had no trouble understanding.

He smiled one last time and then ducked back out into the chilly night.

**Author's Note**: I'm so very sorry for the lack of update last week. Real life completely swamped me. Hopefully, I can keep it from happing again and stick to my weekly update schedule from here on out.

As always, much thanks to Smuffly for her beta help!


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